Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy didn’t want to try anymore

He had tried for almost 16 years

But Tommy was tired, and he just wanted to sleep

***

Tommy was twelve the first time he cut himself.

Tommy had just wanted to be like Wilbur.

Wilbur had played guitar for as long as Tommy could remember. Most of his free time in his younger years had been spent strumming the same six cords. Tommy grew up with Wilbur’s songs as the soundtrack of his life.

Wilbur had never played a song specifically for Tommy. He’d always send Tommy away if he asked to listen in, or shove Tommy away if he ever caught him outside the door. It didn’t matter too much, Tommy could listen through the wall only a few rooms away. It may have been much quieter, but if he tried hard enough he could hear those beautiful songs come to life each night.

Tommy had the faintest memory of a very young him asking Wilbur what the songs meant. A once much kinder Wilbur had told him the songs were from their mother. She had taught him before that fateful night no one wanted to talk about. Months later, Wilbur must have moved their mother’s guitar into his room. The house never went silent after that.

Tommy figured his brother might  teach him if he behaved good enough, so he concocted a brilliant plan. For weeks, maybe even months, Tommy did everything in his power to behave. He tried harder in school, he cleaned up every mess in the house, and stopped bothering his family. When his birthday came, he made sure to stay extra quiet and avoid his family as much as possible. Things had started to look up, and everyone seemed happier.

Tommy had prepared and executed his plan perfectly for months, so he racked up as much courage as he could and knocked on Wilbur’s door. He knocked as similar to Techno as he could so Wilbur wouldn’t send him away.

Wilbur opened the door quickly, with a big smile Tommy had never been the recipient of. He looked up at where Techno’s head would have been. Once he looked down and saw Tommy, his smile immediately dissipated and he closed the door. 

No matter how many times he tried, the door would not open again, Wilbur’s music wouldn’t even start playing. After maybe 15 minutes of trying, Tommy sighed, and went back to his room. A door was heard opening and closing, and then the muffled sounds of a guitar started playing. The only difference this time was Wilbur’s voice accompanying it.  

‘Wilbur must’ve just not wanted to play with someone as inexperienced as Tommy. Maybe he didn’t think he would’ve been a good teacher.’ Tommy thought to himself as he drifted asleep that night. ‘I’ll just have to teach myself. Who wouldn’t want to play with an experienced artist.’

Weeks later, Phil, Techno and Wilbur went to one of Techno’s practices no one wanted to tell Tommy about. It was the perfect opportunity to start teaching oneself a new instrument without the worry of a judgmental audience. 

Tommy stepped into Wilbur’s room for the first time in many years, and stopped for a second to take everything in. He looked at band posters, pictures taken with Wilbur’s friends, pictures with Wilbur, Phil, Techno and every combination, even the few books Wilbur had stashed around his room. 

The room was a mess, but Tommy still loved to see how Wilbur was. His personality showing, even in the smallest and strangest things. Tommy decided then that he would learn about the rest of his family, even if he had to sneak around to do so.

Tommy eventually went to the guitar lying on Wilbur’s bed. Picking it up with the utmost reverence, he sat in the one corner without clothes and placed it on his lap. He sat there for a few minutes, just examining the instrument that had represented such a large part of who he was, but had never been seen by his eyes. 

Eventually, Tommy pulled out his very cracked phone, looked up a tutorial, and started teaching himself how to play. He dealt with the pain in his fingers, and the frustrations of failing. He had sat there with the guitar for hours before he decided he was done for the night. 

He set the beautiful instrument exactly where he had found it, left the room, and closed the door, exactly as it had been before. After making himself a small dinner of toast and carrots, he went to bed. 

No one had told him of the change, but Phil and Wilbur would attend everyone of Techno’s practices, leaving Tommy home with the guitar. He had been getting very good at playing a few songs, and he felt almost ready to show Wilbur. Maybe a few more days, and he’d set out to find the courage. 

As Tommy sat in the corner he had called home for weeks now, the sound of cords being struck drowned out the sound of a door opening and the steps hitting the floor rather quickly. The door leading out of Wilbur’s room had been flung open and a furious older brother glaring at Tommy. 

Tommy had looked up, excited to tell Wilbur he had been teaching himself, how they could finally start playing together. Every speech Tommy had pieced together since his birthday had escaped his mind. Wilbur looked angrier than ever before, scary for the first time. They stayed there, staring at each other for a minute before-

“What the hell are you doing,” Wilbur had asked, seemingly barely containing his anger.

“I was practicing, so we could play together,” Tommy tried to explain.

“Why…would I ever…play with you,” Wilbur slowly said.

“I- I thought you just didn't want to play because I didn’t know how to play but now I know how to so-”

“Shut up. Give me the guitar and go away”.

“But I know how to play now! Just let me show you, it’ll be really quick I promise!”

“Give me. The goddamn. Guitar”

“Just give me 2 minutes! I swear you’re gonna love it and you’ll be so proud! I worked so hard when you were gone!” Tommy attempted to bargain, rambling faster the closer Wilbur approached him.

When Wilbur was within arms reach of Tommy, he reached for the guitar. Tommy panicked and held onto the guitar like a lifeline.

“Just give me a chance please Wilbur!” Tommy begged, standing to better keep hold of the guitar.

“Let go, you piece of shit!”

“No! Please, just listen t-,” Tommy’s hand slipped, gravity taking Wilbur and the beloved guitar. Wilbur had fallen without any scratches or bruises, the guitar hitting the wall behind Wilbur. Hitting the floor with a thud, Wilbur ran over to check on it. 

Wilbur looked back at Tommy, worse than when he first entered the room. Tommy knew he had fucked up. With the guitar moving around, he could see the dents and partially broken bits of the guitar. 

“What did you do!”

“I didn’t mean to, I swear! My hand slipped! I didn’t mean too! I’m so sorry!” Wilbur placed the guitar down with a surprising gentleness, and walked over to Tommy. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, effectively shutting Tommy up.

“You ruined everything! You’ve killed my mother! You killed Techno’s mother! You fucking waste of space! I’m surprised you’ve even made it this long! I hope you fucking die! I hate you!” 

In his anger, Wilbur had loosened his grip on Tommy slightly, giving Tommy the chance to run out of the room. He ran to the nearest bathroom, hearing Wilbur behind him. Tommy arrived in the bathroom, and locked the door immediately. Wilbur was seconds behind him, banging against the door with enough force to shake the hallway. Tommy slid down with his back pressed against the door, covering his ears in a pitiful attempt to block out the angry yelling of Wilbur. 

After an eternity of creative and painful insults, Wilbur left Tommy alone. Tommy took longer to move from his spot on the floor. 

(In the distance, a broken brother cried)

Wilbur’s words spun around Tommy's head like a tornado circling closer and closer to his sanity. 

‘You killed my mother’

‘You waste of space’

‘I hope you fucking die’

Wilbur may have scared Tommy, but he also had given him an idea. He wasn’t quite ready to die, but maybe he could get a taste of the pain he’d eventually have. Insults getting louder and louder as Tommy looked around the bathroom for one thing, his thoughts worsening as well.

Wilbur really did hate him, and it was Tommy’s fault. If he hadn’t gotten sick on his second birthday, Wilbur and Techno would still have their mother. They would have been happy, truly happy.

The tug of war between Wilbur and him had chipped away at the last thing Wilbur had of his mother. A once perfectly preserved piece of Wilbur’s happiness was bruised. And only Tommy could be blamed.

Tommy’s tears hitting his arm grounded him long enough to find what he had been searching for. The unused razor placed dangerously between two fingers. Tommy took a breath to gather enough courage for one try. 

Tommy tried.

Then again.

And again. 

And again.

One simple cut turned to five. 

Turned to ten.

Till lines started meshing together and Tommy couldn’t count anymore.

(Doors were heard opening in the distance, conversations smothered until words couldn’t be understood. A broken brother comforted in a way Tommy would never be allowed.)

His mind tried profusely to stop him, pleading to stop hurting himself. That this wasn't what he was supposed to do. But this was somewhat what Wilbur wanted him to do, and Tommy would do anything to gain his family’s love once again.

Tommy stops only when he feels okay. When he deserves to stop.

Tommy wanted to cry louder, scream, make any noise until he finally felt heard, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want his family to know about this quite yet.

Tommy knew deep down he would never be loud enough. 

Looking down at his wrists, Tommy smiles. He knew he did what Wilbur wanted him too. Maybe even what Techno and his Dad wanted. It wasn’t quite what he expected when he set out to play with Wilbur, but if this was the music he wanted to play, Tommy sure as hell could practice until it killed him.

Tommy didn’t want to be like Wilbur anymore

***

Tommy was fourteen the first time he smoked.

Looking back, Tommy wouldn’t be able to pinpoint what exactly caused him to leave that night. Maybe it was the stress of school, or his family, but Tommy’s best guess was his fight with his best friend Tubbo. 

Tommy had been asking Tubbo for more help than usual with his homework. No matter how hard he studied, Tommy just could not understand his work for chemistry class. Deciphering the difference between atoms, neurons, ions and the different bonds was more than Tommy could understand. 

Tubbo was extremely intelligent when it came to their shared science class. It was the only class he never needed to worry about studying for, and he was a great teacher for it as well if you caught him in a good enough mood. 

Tommy had been too tired from studying the previous night, he forgot to check Tubbo’s mood. He had made an off comment about needing Tubbo’s help later, and it had set him off. 

“I swear you’re like a child Tommy! You can never do anything yourself, it's always ‘Tubbo help me with this, Tubbo help me with that’ I’m so sick of it! Not to mention, how unbelievably stupid you are! Always asking for me to teach you the science lesson we literally had the day before, or asking to ‘check’ your answers against mine. We both know you just copy my answers, and you’re not even intelligent enough to hide it at all!”

“I’m sorry, I had no idea that's what you thought. I’ll stop bothering you about that. Thank you for everything you’ve helped me with so far thou-”

“And that’s another thing, you never shut up! Maybe if you stopped talking long enough you’d be able to hear your own thoughts. God, no wonder your family hates you!” Tubbo finished ranting and immediately started walking to his next class, leaving Tommy alone.

(A scolded son kicked to the ground with his drunken fathers words, trying to get them out of his head in any way he could think of)

Tommy had learned how to hate being alone. Being alone left his thoughts to run wild, tearing away at an already measly will to live. Thoughts would become too loud, too constant. Like a hurricane, beating down a small hut made for one. Tommy tried to move forward, go along with his day and leave this all behind him. 

Tommy was never known for being lucky.

Tommy had been left behind by Tubbo the rest of the day. He remembered seeing Tubbo with some tall guy with split hair, laughing their asses off without a care in the world. At lunch Tommy attempted to sit at the table Tubbo and him always sat at, but was quickly sent away by a frustrated Tubbo.

(Two kids understanding each other, in ways no one would hope for, could finally live unbruised for a few hours)

Tommy had to eat on the floor that day, every other seat being taken or ‘saved’ for someone else. He had the perfect view of Tubbo and this new guy from his spot. They seemed genuinely happy together. Tommy threw away an almost full lunch tray that day.

Thoughts getting the better of him. 

‘He’s better off with this new guy’

‘You really do just screw up everyone's lives’

‘Imagine how much happier he could’ve been if he hadn’t met you’

Tommy spent the rest of the day in a weird state, neither completely zoned in or out for anything. School ended, and Tommy couldn’t remember anything from his later classes that day. 

On his walk home, he saw a bench. The one he and Tubbo first met, when Tubbo had gotten a black eye from ‘falling’ and went to sit out. Tommy had tried his damndest to make Tubbo feel better, and he did for that moment. 

Tommy and Tubbo would have met up at that bench everyday after school since that day, it had been their plan. But plans change, it seems, and people move on. Tommy wanted to cry for the friend he had lost, and scream for this new person he had become. Tommy knew he was selfish for wanting a person he could never have back, yet he was still in pain, and wanted nothing but comfort. 

Tommy sat on the bench for much longer than he intended. He knew he had mounds of homework and studying he should have been working on, but the bench was comfortable, and he wanted to be selfish for just another moment. 

Tommy blinked and suddenly it was dark outside. Almost ready to leave the bench, until a stranger had sat next to him. Unknowing of what to think, Tommy sat there for a few more moments. 

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

The two had looked at each other with much confusion, one more worried than the other. 

“Are you okay kid?”

“Not a kid dumbass,” he tried to say under his breath. The laughing stranger next to him proved he may not have been successful.

“Are you gonna answer my question or…”

Tommy knew nothing of what this man wanted from him, but he was willing to learn if it saved him some time from his lonely room.

“Uh yeah, sorry. I’ve been better”

“I was kinda hoping you wouldn’t say that,” the man laughed to himself. “I’m not going to lie, I’m really not good at comforting people but I’ve got cigarettes if you want some”.

The stranger had moved the box of cigarettes in his direction, but Tommy was quick to push it away.

“I’m a minor, you wrongun”

“Thought you said you weren’t a kid,” the stranger said sarcastically.

“I’m not, but I am. Big difference, king”

“Yes, of course. How could I have been so incorrect?” This stranger seemed pretty okay in Tommy’s books, maybe he wasn’t too bad.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Tommy,” he said with his first genuine smile in a while.

“Quackity,” he replied, sticking his hand out to shake and smiling slightly. 

“What’re you doing here then, Quackity?”

“You don’t wanna know, had to blow off some steam.”

“Alright big man, be suspicious and shit then I guess.”

“Whatever,” Quackity laughed, “Here, I’ll teach you how to use it,” once again moving the cigarette box towards Tommy. 

“Fuck it, why not,” Tommy sighed, reaching for one. Once he put it up to his mouth, Quackity lit his and Tommy’s. 

“Just breathe it in and out, simple as that”

Tommy did just that, and was launched into a coughing fit.

“You motherfucker,” Tommy laughed, punching Quackity lightly on the shoulder. 

Tommy hoped his luck would get better, as he watched the stars with Quackity late into the night.

***

Tommy was fifteen the first time he snuck out.

Ranboo moving in had changed many things in the house. Tommy had been moved from his room to the basement to better help their “guest”. He had been told Ranboo’s past didn’t allow him a peaceful sleep in the basement, and with a usable guest room still needed, Tommy had been replaced moved without his knowledge.

(A beaten boy brought in to have a safe space from the people who gave him life, awaiting a life-changing verdict)

He tried to think of how much better this new location would be, thinking of how he could have more space, have a quieter and less disturbed room he never wanted that . But with the basement mostly used for storage, his hope for space was quickly dissipated. Hope for a quieter room was lost when he constantly heard heavy steps above his head. His one source of comfort was smothered to silence, the beautiful sounds of cords moving effortlessly not heard with the new found distance. 

Tommy was able to receive one of his wishes. He was never bothered after being moved to his new room. His family was very kind with this silent request, yet sometimes would take it too far. They had days in the beginning where his door was locked from the outside. They’d only realize after receiving calls from school of his absence. Tommy liked to use that time to catch up on his school work. Eventually they stopped this routine, and he would make it to school only a bit late. 

The mood of everyone living upstairs changed significantly as well. The rooms seeing their smiles once long forgotten. Their laughs echoing off almost every wall was a welcome surprise. Ranboo had opened up everyones once closed doors. Phil could be seen waiting for Ranboo to come home and sharing his favorite old family videos. Techno would read his favorite Greek myths when the pounding rain and thunder would become too much for Ranboo. Wilbur began teaching Ranboo the songs he once vowed no one else could learn. 

(A healing kid finally learned what a life without parental pain meant)

Tommy didn’t allow himself to be too affected by these changes. Tommy couldn’t allow himself to feel. He would walk away before it became too much, he knew his limits. 

He would usually end up spending more time in his room. With how little the wifi reached the basement, Tommy spent most of his time looking around the room, and listening to the family living upstairs. He had studied every crack and knew of every squeaky floorboard. 

Days weeks Months passed of living the same life. Never resting in hopes of convincing his family he was worth the love he had desired since that day. The stupid fucking day his mom Kristin drove to get-

Hours spent in uncomfortable positions trying to understand that science concept he just couldn’t quite latch onto. Meals missed in the hopes to get just a few extra minutes of studying. His grades gradually got better, yet the same couldn’t be said for other aspects of his life. His appetite shrunk quickly, and his sleep schedule never truly made an appearance these days. 

Ranboo had settled in, and from what Tommy could hear at home, he was doing better. Happier, even. Tommy could see Ranboo somehow happier once Tubbo was in his line of sight. They were brothers in every way except blood, Tommy could see that better than anyone from where he stood. It was a spitting image of them years ago.  

Tommy was happy for Ranboo. He didn’t know much at all, but there was a reason Ranboo moved in with them, and all the strange things he did at first. As time went on, he could meet people’s eyes, and the jumpiness went away slowly as well. Ranboo may have filled Tommy’s old room with his things, but he was able to fill a hole in his family’s hearts Tommy was never able to. 

Tubbo seemed happier as well. They hadn’t spoken since his birthday that day a year ago.Tommy watched as his brother Tubbo became happier from a distance. The bruises just barely hidden were still there, and his eyes never quite shined as bright as the day they first met, but his smile was the most genuine he had seen in years. 

Q had never missed a day of seeing Tommy, yet Tommy had found no solace after a day of longing once again. Running to a bench normally already holding his best friend, was now empty. A pain distantly familiar broke his chest. 

Tommy tried to call, text, anything he could think of to see if Quackity was doing well. He was aware of what Quackity had dealt with. Knew of the ex who ruined him, the pills that almost took him, the drinks he couldn’t stop downing years ago.

 He also knew how much Q had tried to change. He always told Tommy how they were gonna get better. Heal together and move to a town without haunting memories. Tommy always liked to agree, try to at least believe it himself, but he never believed he’d make it to eighteen. 

Tommy was worried Q had relapsed, or seen the person he had desperately avoided for years. The minutes ticked on to hours sitting on that damn bench. Eventually, Tommy had to get up, knowing he was needed at home before they accidentally locked him out again. 

Walking to the house was a bittersweet feeling. Tommy was happy to go lay down, maybe see a hint of a smile on someone’s face. He didn’t want to deal with the sadness however. It was the anniversary of her-

A day happily celebrated once, before it was turned into something else. 

Tommy had figured out to just leave things alone that day at a young age. He knew what to expect. He took a breath to gather his courage, and walked into the house.

Tommy was wrong

The dining room was filled with pictures never met by Tommy’s eyes. The guitar that started a long run of pain and longing was lying on the table. Paintbrushes and paintings leant against it. Music Tommy could only hope to hear these days was playing quietly, a pang of nostalgia sent through Tommy’s chest. 

Moving to the living room, in a sense of awe, to find everyone watching a family video from before the accident. They were all smiling, laughing, something Tommy had never heard on these days. 

Eventually, someone must have noticed Tommy watching over their shoulders, as the sweet sounds of a happy family came to an end. Tommy saw his father, his brothers, Ranboo, and-

“Tubbo?”

Tommy could faintly hear Phil yelling something at someone, but he wasn’t conscious enough to listen. Tommy only knew one thing.

He had to leave. He had to get out. Anything. He needed to breathe. He wanted to breathe again. He made his way to his room as quickly as he could without making noise. He scrambled to grab his phone and booked it out his tiny window. As soon as he was out of earshot from the house, he called Quackity.

“Please Q pick up, pick up, pick up.” He pleaded under his breath.

The phone rang once twice three times before-

“What's up?”

Tommy felt bad, he knew he would when he called Quackity in the first place. 

“Q please I need to meet you somewhere”

“Alright, yeah where are you”

Tommy was conscious enough now to hear every unspoken communication. The way Quackity’s voice gave away the pain-filled sobs Tommy had only seen a select amount of times before. The way his hitched breathing silently showed his worry. Tommy, as selfish as it was, needed to see Quackity. He needed to hear how everything would be alright in the ways only Quackity had learned to comfort him.

“I just left my house, I can wait for you at the bench”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Just breathe and wait for me.”

Tommy got to his meeting spot and sat down just long enough to calm down a bit before seeing Quackity running towards him. He got to feet and ran to meet him midway. Immediately being engulfed in the love he never received at home, he sobbed. Quackity let him stay there, knowing it was best to just comfort the kid in silence.

Neither said anything about the missed meetup only hours prior, they knew it could be dealt with later. All they knew was that they needed each other, in that moment, and nothing more.

Cigarettes were shared, and a place to sleep was offered. Words would eventually be shared about that day, what caused them to run to each other that night. But they had tomorrow to deal with their separate but painfully similar afflictions. 

***

Tommy was sixteen the first time he drank.

Tubbo had only started showing up more often after that day, and Tommy somehow found more time to spend in his room. Meals now held Tubbo and Ranboo at the center of them more often than not. With a living room holding the perfect view of a door, a window turned into an escape. 

The laugh that once occurred only of a bond shared between two boys dealing with more trauma than either knew, would bounce around the walls of Tommy’s head. The pain traveling and somehow gaining momentum as it moved to his chest, one of the few places left without self-induced scars. 

Hearing a life meant for him a family live just above one’s head hurt more than he had originally planned on.Words never meant for Tommy leaving his family’s mouths hurt far more than anything he’d done to himself. 

Tommy’s body moved without a conscious mind to control it, moving towards a familiar tool tucked away between boxes holding too many memories for one heart to bear alone. A tool calling to Tommy louder as each passing minute passed by alone.

Tommy had meant to call Quackity, try to work through everything before his body took control. Tommy had meant to start calling years ago, but his heart never allowed him too. A reason somehow so unoriginal yet so enticing kept his mind locked in place.

He would have called today, yet a tired sounding Q had called him a day earlier, explaining how they wouldn’t be able to meet for a while and how he would make up for missing the monumental day.

(An addicted accomplice pulls himself up from his bathroom floor, determined to live another day for his brother)

However much he hoped to stop it, a tortuous mind would always win out. The guilt he deserved for something he had no control over a premature death he should have been stronger to stop called his favorite color to appear. A pain he could control for once, a way to suffer only he could inflict on himself, painted a red sea repeatedly traversed by an aching child. The lights slowly start to dim, and wave hitting Tommy’s chest before…

Waking up from loss of himself was painfully familiar. Tommy remained on the floor of the basement, staring at lives above him, not ready to stop his attempt at rest. Time goes on, a fog, normally passing fairly quickly, remains. A body newly awake but still slumbering mind rises, pain still reaching, moving towards a way outside. 

A latch is heard, limbs moving before the mind can comprehend anything. The slight noise of something landing on the grass changed to pavement. Lights someone else could make out appear, blinding the more time moved forward. 

A gas station most would call decaying allows a barely sixteen year old possess things he shouldn’t. A cigarette held between his newly cut fingers, breathing in the comforting killer. A bottle opened, the stench alone strong enough to intoxicate. A burning feeling he could get used to reaches Tommy’s chest, alieving the burdens a person shouldn’t deserve to feel.

A soft voice heard in the background, deja vu painfully strikes the loss of music he learned to live with. A voice possibly trying to convince him to put the bottle down. To stop with the gentle killers. As much as Tommy wished he could, a knowledge he’d acquired years previous revealed what his family thought he needed.

Time alone to deal with his kill. Knowledge on techniques to graze death without the satisfaction of peace. Replaced with a better person than he deserved to be.

He’d hoped from a young age he was meant for more. Meant to help others never understand what he does. Never think a life could simply be described as ellipsis. Recognize starts to life were worth reaching for.

But he’d been taught to not lie. He may have lied to others for their sake, but lying to himself was another thing. He couldn’t stop the thoughts he didn’t know that he wanted too . The silence left behind might have killed him sooner. 

Tommy wasn’t going to get better. A moment sitting on a curb outside was the moment a decision realization was made. He’d try to stay for as long as he could, but when he was done, when his life finally became too heavy to bear, he’d be gone.

(A recovering man prepares himself for the time ahead of him, ready to meet his brother at peace once again)

He thought about how he’d might like to go, slightly hoping it’d be sooner than later. He could let his paintbrush finish the painting he’d been working on for years. He could let the fog in his lungs finally suffocate his existence. Maybe he’d go as his mother had.

The bottle was tipped up once again and Tommy finally felt like the fog was gone.

He felt at peace, for those few hours the drink lingered.

***

Tommy was seventeen when he played soccer for the first time.

He never had the intention to join a club of any sorts. Studying had taken up a large majority of his time recently, and he wanted to spend any free time he had with Quackity. 

On the few nights when life became too heavy for him to deal with on his own, Tommy would sleep on the floor next to Q. It might not have been the most physically comfortable, no matter how much they tried, but those were the only nights he could finally rest. 

Quackity made Tommy want to stop the studying he had already spent mind-numbing hours on. Made Tommy want to eat and sleep and catch up on the necessities he often denied himself. 

When Tommy visited, the small yet ever empty home suddenly felt whole. 

Quackity had been seeing someone to help with his ‘trip’ he had taken last year around the same time. While Tommy had an idea of what happened, he also knew Q would tell him when he was ready, and Tommy would never take that away from him. 

After the ‘trip’ finished, Quackity had to take a few nights every week to speak in the beginning. Time passed and the meetings slowly reduced in occurrence. Meeting weekly slowly turned to monthly, and Tommy silently cheered Q on. He was proud his friend was getting better, finally reaching for that hand he never trusted enough to hold him up properly.

Quackity had learned many things at his meetings, and trying new hobbies had been one of them. He explained it as ‘changing your mind from hurting to helping itself’. Quackity had a difficult time getting started in anything, so Tommy decided to join in his pursuit of living. 

They had ultimately decided that the other knew what was better, thus leading to Quackity practicing poker and Tommy taking up a sport at school. Tommy had tried to go for the jokes, all his energy went into this decision for a week, yet Quackity decided on sports for Tommy.

Quackity was kind enough to let Tommy choose which sport he would waste time on, but seeing how many options his school had, he wished he didn’t have such a kind friend. Tommy knew he had time before needing to make a concrete decision, but he was running out of cigarettes and Quackity refused to supply him as quickly. 

Soccer had eventually peaked his interest Quackity asked,Tommy made his decision then , and as 7 rolled around the next morning, Tommy was walking towards the Soccer coach’s room. Tommy felt a strange sense of deja vu hit his chest as he paused before reaching the handle, took a breath to gather his courage, and opened the door.

He made it in the room, walking towards a desk, when a woman with half white hair almost like Ranboo’s spun around, a smile already seemingly to never leave present on her face. 

She appeared very kind, a different world held behind her eyes. Her voice quite comforting from the few words shared between them.

Two seniors burst through the entrance of the room, almost hitting the two already in the room. Out of breath, they appeared to have raced or fought through the world. They were so focused on the other losing, they missed the confused and exasperated stares they received. 

He pulled Tommy towards a still unknown destination with endless potential. Reaching a door outside, the sun hitting Tommy’s eyes in just the right way to blind him to seeing black spots in the world. Voices were heard, saying goodbye or possibly congratulating someone for an achievement unbeknownst to the out of breath teen still in the process of finding a final destination.

The kid pulling Tommy stops in the middle of a field, introducing everyone, appearingly enlivened by the fresh blood. Many names were shared, already circling the young kid's mind into a place of forgotten. 

Even with the overwhelming surroundings, a small smile started creeping into the corners of Tommy’s eyes. Conversations bouncing from one to another at the drop of a hat, fighting for honor in the name of nothing, arguing over the simplest things and knowing nothing was meant to hurt. 

Beautiful paintings not yearning for more detail under his clothes, lungs not mourning the absence of poison, Lady Death not preparing to take a soul so young yet. Tommy was breathing, knew he was living a little in this moment. 

A group of people he’d met a few hours prior had already forced their way into a bit of his heart, Tommy wasn’t sure he was willing to let them in any further. A familiar voice was heard by him alone, beginning the process of losing his defenses against allies. 

*** 

Tommy was eighteen the first time he won.

One final goal made, the electricity of a winning shot shooting through to his chest. A team running up, congratulating the near impossible shot with more love than one could know what to do with. Everything a blur until Quackity rams into Tommy, somehow knocking the fog away. 

“Oh my god, you fucking killed it kid!” Quackity said, smiling with more pride than Tommy had ever thought was possible.

“Still not a kid,” Tommy said before he was crushed by the rest of the team. 

A smile the sky never thought possible to see again was larger than life. A comforting, crushing feeling of love started to make a home in his chest. Tommy realized, in that moment, maybe he could take the pain of loss if this was the beginning.

Tommy looked around, hoping the continuously gifted invitations would’ve finally reached his family’s hearts. Looking for faces that should’ve been familiar, yet once again were nowhere for Tommy to see.

(A unified breath taken by four souls are taken, a family ready to move on from the past and add to their future)

Thoughts running rapidly around his head, circling his brain, threatening to suffocate his happiness only increased at the three person absence Tommy had never grown accustomed to. 

An empty feeling slowly ebbed its way into his chest, forgetting the people surrounding him. The fog creeping its way into his head once again, a universe of painfully nothing formed around him. 

The trophy was put in Tommy’s hands, the medal placed around his neck almost like a noose felt more suffocating than he thought it would.

Leaving everyone took more time than Tommy deemed necessary. The team trying to get Tommy to celebrate not only a victory, but another year without his mom Tommy had lived. Ideas lies were shared, speaking of times to spend with them another day. 

Walking back hurt, unknowing of why this was what broke his chest. This minuscule moment hurt more from their absence than the years he’d had to understand the pain. Years he wished to have back, to redo anything he could to take back the pain he caused his family.

The small bouquet of flowers someone must have placed in his hands obstructed fully reaching the door to a house he could never truly say farewell to. Standing there, in front of a building holding Tommy’s life in between walls, voices could be heard. Laughing, happy to have each other a seventeen year old absence missed.

Tommy knew he could make it past the group, head straight to his room without bothering anyone and finish the day with a hand to his chest. He moved the flowers to a more manageable position, took a breath to gather his courage, and walked through the door. 

Decorations vaguely similar yet off to years previous filled the house. More seemed to be appealing to a certain person’s tastes. The black and white banners, ghosts featured multitudes of times around the building confused Tommy. Birthdays for the gangly teen took place months earlier, and months later, but never in April. 

Getting out of the headspace surely to lock him in place if not traversed out of took a few shakes of a head and people in another room to get louder. Tommy couldn’t figure out which room was currently holding everyone from the few seconds he attempted to determine a location. Eventually deciding he was simply wasting time just standing in the entryway, Tommy started to make his way to the basement. 

In preparation for the disconsolate night, Tommy started to fade from consciousness and allow his muscle memory to kick in. His journey was interrupted about half way through by a hand grabbing his arm.

“You alright Tommy?” A blurry face and indistinct voice asked.

“Huh?”

“Are you alright?” the person repeated with the same kind tone never used for him in a house he resided in for the past eighteen years. 

“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine” Tommy unfortunately responded with more consciousness than he planned on having that repeated night in April. “Do you need anything before I’m down for the night?”

“What do you mean down for the night? We’re celebrating as a family!”

“Ranboo, what the hell are you talking about?” Tommy was ready to rest he had for years but people always found ways to intercept before his opportunity was achieved.

“Y’know, what we spent all day working on while you were out,” Appearing to keep a strained smile that Tommy couldn’t have understood the reasoning behind.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I was-”

“Finally! I was wondering why you were taking so long to grab a-” Wilbur cut himself off just as he had Tommy. An elated mood quickly shifting to a more familiar one at the sight of him. “Where were you all day Tommy?”

“I was at a game,” Tommy hoped this was finally an olive branch within his reach. “It was actually the big tournament I’ve been trying to tell you guys about, and we fucking did it. We beat those motherfuc-”

“Stop. We have something more important to tell you since you missed it earlier”

Wilbur dragged Tommy into the kitchen, more trinkets for Ranboo almost effortlessly everywhere as it had for the last three years . The centerpiece of their love for a kid not bound by blood the celebration was a cake clearly meant for Ranboo.

It explained everything. The decorations, the happy mood of the day. They may have loved him as family, but Tommy could always believe he had one thing Ranboo couldn’t. Now, legality may have been shared, but it would only truly belong to Ranboo from that day forth.

(A family once broken can finally be repaired, but never whole)

The world turned blurry, a salty taste reaching his mouth as the pain silently runs down his cheek, concealed in one moment. The phantom feeling of a game's aftermath wraps around the boy, but comfort was much further than before. The beauty of love in the beginning wasn’t worth the pain of the end.

The pain of wishing for a love he couldn't have was felt in his chest. Knowing that love was given to someone else however, felt like his chest had broken. If he thought about it, Tommy would be described as the ellipsis for his family. He’d been the missing piece necessary for his family’s happiness.

And Ranboo would find that he was the necessary piece missing to fix a puzzle broken sixteen years ago. Tommy was happy they’d found someone who would fulfill the role he wasn’t able too. 

Once a decision was made, he knew one thing. Pain may live with them temporarily, and they’d move on. They would have better opportunities, better people to spend their time on. They’d learn their happiness could finally be achieved once more.

***

Tommy is eighteen when he takes his first breath to gather the courage he’d always had…

And falls to his long awaited sleep, next to his mother.

***

“Tommy spent the last seconds of his eighteenth birthday at the bottom of a bridge. He told me someone once argued he’d never make it to eighteen, and my god was he competitive,” Quackity laughed slightly, trying to hide the tears already preparing to make an appearance.

“I had the pleasure of meeting Toms four years ago. I can still remember like it was yesterday. He had been on that god forsaken bench-”

“Neither of us were doing well, I think we both knew that. We both had our issues we were dealing with, trying to find ways to cope with the shitty hands Prime had granted us.”

“I can’t speak for Tommy, but my life changed the moment he argued how much of a child he wasn’t in his own stupidly nonsensical way. He taught me how to love and be loved. He allowed me into his life and taught me how to see the truly beautiful things in life. Like the way flowers look in the early mornings of spring, or how the world around us could be so damn musically beautiful.”

“He saved me, even when he was struggling to save himself, and I can never thank him enough for that. I can only hope he’s hearing all this up there, because prime knows I was too stubborn to tell him before he had to go.”

“He always said he was meant for something more, and I can’t say I agree more. We may not have been thinking that same thing, but he was never meant to live a quiet life. He was loud, and happy, and a pure soul. He was meant to save so many people better than me. I'm sorry you never got that chance, kid.”

“He had created a great future for himself. He had been accepted into a great college that would’ve skyrocketed his career in video editing and entertainment. His many wives he loved to talk about, yet never gave me the chance to meet any of them.”

“I can only hope in the next life he has a life worthy of him. With love, and happiness, and rest because he was never granted such kindnesses in this one. I will never regret meeting Tommy Innit. He was the greatest way to start living again.”

“Till next time, my friend,” Quackity said just loud enough for him and hopeful Tommy to hear, laying a hand at the foot of his coffin. 

Walking away hurt. Leaving his best friend hurt. Leaving his brother hurt, knowing he had to live without Toms, yet not understanding it. Quackity didn’t want to learn to move on. He didn’t. He didn’t. He didn’t…

As much he hurt, as much as he didn’t want this, he knew Tommy wasn’t hurting anymore. That was all he could hope for as he made his way back to his seat, sitting with the people with so much love left to give a departed family member.

Ranboo was sat where a family who should’ve been better, should’ve loved more, should have been. He knew what happened, he understood why Tommy was gone. A pain he’d known differently almost killed him as well. He’d found a way to cease the pain, yet at the cost of another's suffering.

An opportunity had run out, one too comfortable to realize he’d cut short another’s chance to live. He knew what he’d done, it’d plagued him everyday unlike a family undeserving of their brother’s sacrifice. Ranboo’s family was unwilling to see what they’d done, unwilling to change their ways. As he sat there, grieving the boy he’d learned to love from the outside in silence, a cycle was completed and set to start again.

***

Tommy would be nineteen when his grave is visited.

Quackity had spent the better part of the day on a certain bench. He’d held a cigarette up to his mouth for the first time in a year, hoping his brother could see how far he’d come. The silence he sat in was just enough to hear his memories playing. The videos he’d had of Tommy simply existing had been started and repeated more times than he could recall. The videos of his kid enjoying life in his small moments, laughing, speaking.

Quackity was glad to carry these small pieces of Tommy with him, but he still mourned the loss of making more. Although a year had passed, he was still in pain. A laugh meant to be shared with the world sat underground. His eyes seen in the calm and chaotic tides of an ocean just out of sight. 

Quackity spent those hours in his head, replaying moments until it was time for him to open the bench to others, opting to make his way to the cemetery. 

The drive was difficult, memories of times not made slipped through. He sat in his car after parking it, attempting to prepare himself for a sight he wasn’t meant to see this soon. Taking a deep breath to get the confidence required, he gets out of his car and makes his way to his brother’s grave.

“You were meant to save so many more people than me,” a breaking voice speaks only for the dead to hear. “ I’m sorry you never got the chance, kid, but I know you had to go. I hope you can finally be happy. Maybe in another world, you’ve got wings that aren’t clipped before you can watch the world below you.”

“You deserved so much better than what you were given,” he whispered, quietly enough Lady Death could’ve missed it.

“I love you, kid. Until next time”

Quackity put his head to the tombstone with a sad smile. He lit Tommy’s favorite cigarette, placed it on the stone, and walked back to his car. He’d continue on for Toms, figured they’d need something to talk about later.

Ranboo walked to Tommy at sunset. A small bouquet of alliums picked just a few minutes before held with a gentleness one who’d been loved by pain could know. 

It was a grip he thought Tommy lived with.

Tommy looked as though someone had come to visit recently, a cigarette appearing to breathe out its last moments soon. A bouquet replaced one whose time had unfortunately come to an end as well. A hand was placed on the tombstone, an attempt to reach the person on the other side hopefully not in vain. 

“Hey Tommy” A sad smile was shared with the sun once again.

A friendship with the possibility to save a life was extinguished with one last breath. The life lost due to one being too comfortable to move hurt. Ranboo had wanted to mourn a life he hadn’t known, wanted to stay in a room till the world finally stopped moving and realized what they’d lost. 

The world didn’t stop. 

A carefully crafted facade is broken by one simple tear hitting the ground. Hundreds of ideas flowing through his mind, thinking of what could have been. In another universe they could have moved out of the country together, playing games together for hours and making fun of their newly acquired accents. They would live the loud life Tommy was meant to live. As the sun set, a friend just narrowly missed begins to stand up. Thinking of the beautiful night sky Tommy makes, he says one last thing for Tommy’s heart alone before walking away.

The sky openly wept, snuffing out the life of a single cigarette. It’s time too had come to an end, only for a flower to begin life in its place.